


Interested Parties

by TriplePirouette



Category: Captain America (Movies), Indiana Jones Series
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 04:44:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4006318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriplePirouette/pseuds/TriplePirouette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Let the Fuhrer dig for trinkets in the desert.” -Red Skull. In their search for the factions of the Third Reich, two heroes cross paths looking for information. </p><p>Potential start to a series of fics if anyone else finds this interesting. Indiana Jones-Captain America crossover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interested Parties

**Author's Note:**

> Well, because I had to. I love the idea of this, but I’ve never written Indy before. I’m still working on finding his voice. I have a few more ideas if anyone finds this interesting- I may dig back into this universe for another chat or two. 
> 
> Than you to Tumblr’s Youcantgivemeorders for the beta. I changed several things after she looked it over, so any errors are mine.

 

The bar was dark and smoky; a hole in the wall just on the allied side of a line that was only drawn on maps in heavily fortified war rooms. The piano sat quiet in the corner, the silence heavier than any note it would ever play. The people that were there weren’t the same people that had once inhabited the hall, they didn’t call for refills with bright red cheeks and hazy smiles, didn’t bounce around the filled room to music and laughter. They were hiding, holding quiet conversations over hazy drinks. Desperate lovers hid in corners, trying to steal minutes they didn’t have. Lonely men lined the bar, staring into their drinks like they might hold the answers to their futures.

 

The door opened, no tinkle of the bell next to it to alarm the bartender of a new customer, only a dark shadow in a fedora slipping in quietly. He kept his head low, and took in the place as quick as he could when he saw his contact. With a sigh and a shake of his head he took long strides to a back corner table, joining the man there without any preamble.

 

“Professor Jones?” The man asked without looking up, his hands unnaturally calm on his beer stein. Blonde hair, broad shoulders in a brown leather jacket, Jones thought that the man couldn’t look any more all-American if he tried.

 

Indiana Jones turned and signaled the bartender with a pointed finger toward the man’s drink, then addressed him fully. “You might as well be wearing a target on you, Captain Rogers.” The slight smile on the Captains’ face only served to confuse Jones more as he continued; he had believed the man smarter than to stick out in a crowd. “I’m surprised you’re not holding a football and an apple pie, for Christ’s sake.” Indy shrugged as the bartender placed a stein in front of him. “Might as well put you on all those propaganda posters instead of that guy in tights.”

 

Steve covered a small laugh. “Right, well, Howard didn’t tell you much about me, did he?”

 

Indy shrugged and took a drink from his stein. The beer was not as cold as he’d like, and not quite as fresh as it should be, but it was wartime and he supposed he should be grateful for anything aside from bathtub gin. “If you know anything about Howard, you know that he’s generally not a man of many words unless he’s romancing a lady. He gave me a when and where, said we could probably help one another out. I didn’t even get your full name.” Indy reached across the table, hand open in friendly invitation. “Doctor Henry Jones, call me Indy.”

 

Steve smiled as he shook the man’s hand. “Captain Steve Rogers.” Steve watched as the dawn of realization filled the archeologists eyes as he let go of his hand. “I left the tights back at the base.”

 

Indy coughed and took a swig of his beer, trying to cover his nervousness at his social misstep. He gave a quick once over to the bar, surprised that the man in front of him hadn’t drawn more attention.

 

“No harm, no foul,” Steve continued, lightening the tone a bit, even though the bar kept things fairly dark and morose. “Though the blonde hair and blue eyes unfortunately help a lot when I have to blend in with Hitler’s army… found that out the other night.”

 

Steve shrugged, and Indy raised his eyebrows, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, I guess that might help.” He took his fedora off and laid it to the side. “In any event, Howard said we may be able to help one another.”

 

“Right,” Steve reached to the floor next to him, pulling out a plain manila file. “When Howard saw these he remembered you calling him a few weeks back to see if he knew anything.” Steve dropped his voice to a low whisper, “At the last Hydra base we raided-“

 

“Hydra?” Indy interrupted, leaning forward and taking the file from the Captain’s hands and flipping through pages.

 

Steve linked his hands as he leaned on the table. “A rogue arm of Hitler’s research division, headed by Johann Schmidt.”

 

Indy looked up. “I met Schmidt once, he worked with Belloch for about a year. He seemed… unstable.”

 

Steve tipped his head and pursed his lips. “That’s… about right.” He took a sip of his beer as Jones went back to the file. “We were able to get that map there, and part of a communication that details a movement through Northern Africa.” Steve folded his hands together, looking over the edge of the folder. “It’s not much, I’m afraid, but hopefully it will give you a clue as to what this Belloch is doing.”

 

Jones nodded. “I know what he's doing, the question was where was he doing it. He’s looking for Egyptian ruins. They’ve been lost in the desert for years.” Indy traced the map with a finger.

 

“Even if he finds them, what good would they be?” Steve’s eyebrows lifted in genuine curiosity. He’d known of Professor Jones before the war. He’d written papers in journals he’d had to read in school. His name had been on some great exhibits he’d seen in the museum the last time he’d went before the war started. Any other time, any other day, he’d buy the man another drink and hope to get to know the man who’d always seemed just a little like a legend to his past self.

 

Indy shrugged. “If he can find a place called the map room in the ruins, assuming he can find the ruins at all, he can figure out what may be the location for the Lost Ark of the Covenant.” Indy sighed and slipped the folder closed, waiting for the hero before him to scoff. “History says that any army that marches behind the Ark is unstoppable.”

 

Steve’s eyes went wide with wonder for a moment, but he didn’t flinch. Hitler’s predilection for the occult was well known, and Hydra wasn’t keeping their interest in otherworldly technology a secret. “Well, I hope you find him first.” Steve was honest, strong and calm. If he was surprised or put off, he didn’t let it show. “If we can help…”

 

Indy shook his head, trying to hide his disbelief at the man’s lack of a reaction. Very few people didn’t flinch when he brought up the power of the old relics. “Last thing we need is to draw the forces into this. I used to serve, I know how it works.” Indy raised his stein to the man. “I appreciate the offer, though.” Steve raised his as well and they quietly and carefully touched glasses, taking a hearty drink. After a moment, Indy held his hand out. “What is it that I can help you with?”

 

Steve pulled a small pile of fuzzy photographs from his pocket. “Schmidt and Hydra are using something that is a tremendous power source. It glows blue and even Stark’s never seen anything like it. Just before they acquired it, they stormed a church.” Indy looked at the fuzzy pictures of the holy place, pulling out his glasses from his pocket as Steve continued solemnly. “Hydra doesn’t generally target churches. They lay waste to everything in their path. But that night, they just bulldozed their way into this church. What would he have gotten there?”

 

Indy shook his head and separated the pictures out into a line. “I’m not sure. In general, some churches are places for the hiding or revering of holy relics. They’re generally on display inside for people to pray to, though. From what I’ve heard, Hitler himself doesn’t have any sights set on minor elements, which is what I would expect to be found in a small church like this: a piece of cloth from a saint, a finger, maybe.”

 

“A finger?” Steve cringed.

 

Indy nodded, and turned back to the pictures. “There are some things I wouldn’t expect to see here at all, though. That looks like the seal of King Arthur’s court- one of the knights on the quest for the Holy Grail, perhaps. He wouldn’t have gotten anything from a corpse- that’s a terrible place to hide an artifact, and the Grail isn’t supposed to be anywhere near Germany. That, however,” he pointed to the next picture, the carving of the tree, “is from Norse myth- the Tree of Life.” Indy shook his head. “The inside is decorated in the Roman Catholic style to go along with the corpse, but that wall, that wall is ancient Norse myth.”

 

Steve looked at the pictures. “What would be the point of that?”

 

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen it before in connection with a church,” Indy pulled the picture of the carving closer. “But this? This is gorgeous.” He looked up sharply, “They didn’t destroy it, did they?”

 

 

Steve shook his head. “Mostly intact, except for a drawer that was pulled out.”

 

“Hidden compartment.” Indy nodded, appeased for the moment. “Could have been anything that was hidden in there.” Indy shrugged. “Probably your power source, though I’m not quite sure of what the point of hiding it would be unless it was some sort of relic.” Indy put the picture back down, tapping it before he settled it to the wood. “I can’t think of anything off the top of my head that could be considered a relic and a power source, but I would have to do some research to be sure.”

 

Steve nodded; he hadn’t thought that he’d get much. “Tell me about they myth, then.” Steve wrapped his hands around the beer stein even though it was nearly empty.

 

Indy turned the picture of the carving so it faced Steve and traced it with his fingers as he spoke. “The Tree of Life is a central construct of Norse myth. It begins in Asgard, where the gods live. That’s where the trunk is. The branches extend over the heavens into the nine worlds. These three roots extend down into the underworlds. There are all kinds of myths about who lives in each place and why, what kind of hold they had on the Nordic peoples and how they reigned or controlled their fate.” Indy circled the tree with his pointer finger. “It’s a gorgeous rendition, but unfortunately not one that references any specific version of the story I’ve ever heard. Without knowing what story the artist is referencing, the symbols in it are meaningless.”

 

Indy shrugged and took a swig of his beer. “If he’s referencing Norse myth, it could be one of the snakes that feeds on the roots of the Tree of Life, or the snake is one of Loki’s children, a snake that wraps around the earth and devours it’s own tail. It could be referencing the Catholic roots of the church, though, as the serpent that convinced Eve to eat the apple.”  He sighed, wishing he had a book with him to reference, a library to dig into to help this man solve his problem. “Because it’s in a church but also Norse, without more information about the artist or the commissioning of it, I’m only guessing.”

 

Steve nodded, reaching out to shuffle the pictures together. “Right, well, thank you anyway.”

 

Indy shrugged. “If you don’t mind me keeping this,” he pulled the picture of the Tree of Life from the pile, “I can send it to a friend. He may know more. He’s a researcher by the name of Alekks Selvig. He’s not publishing anymore, but he knows a hell of a lot more about Norse myth than I do.” Indy leaned back in his chair. “Might be able to get you something.”

 

Steve sat up and held out his hand and shook Indy’s, “That would be very much appreciated. Keep what you like, Howard can put us back in touch if you hear anything.”

 

Indy slipped the picture in his pocket, leaving the rest for Steve to scoop up.  He took a drink from his mostly filled stein just to fill up the silence as Rogers stood and gathered his briefcase, but decided against keeping his mouth shut. “Captain Rogers?” Steve stopped moving and looked at Indy, waiting. “Be careful with these men. Schmidt only spent a little time with Belloch, but…”

 

“They’re dangerous men.” Steve finished.

 

“Yes,” Indy affirmed, standing. “Very.”

 

“I haven’t underestimated him, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Steve slipped the latch on his briefcase closed, leaving a small pile of bills on the table to cover their drinks as he watched the man’s face grow hard before him.

 

“Good. Don’t.” Indy shook his head and picked up his fedora, brushing away dust that didn’t exist from the brim. “Most people do. Most people discount these men as crazies who look for trinkets in the desert. I can tell you- I’ve seen it. Some of these things- even if they don’t have inherent power, they have the power to inspire.”

 

Steve took a deep breath, his mind recalling so many speeches he’d gotten, so many speeches he’d given, meant to be inspiring, meant to swell support for the war effort. He knew propaganda, he knew politics, he’d been a trinket to be played, and he would never underestimate the value of that. “One day, when this is all over, I have a story to tell you about a man called Dr. Erskine. Until then,” Steve held out his hand and shook Indy’s heartily, sincerely, “know that I will never underestimate these men. Find that Ark, before they do, otherwise it doesn’t matter if it has the power of God or not, it’s the power of the belief behind it.” He dropped his hands to his briefcase. “If you need help, call Howard. He’ll know where to find me.”

 

“Same goes for you,” Indy replied, sitting his fedora firmly on his head. “I’ll see what I can find out with the picture, but if you need anything else, just call.”

 

Steve nodded as he picked up the briefcase, dropping a hand on the other man’s shoulder as he walked past with a quick, “good luck,” slipping from his lips.

 

Indiana Jones watched Captain America slip from the bar. He didn’t know much about the man, didn’t much care for the bright propaganda or the silly shorts they showed with the news reel, but there was something about the man that made Jones want to follow him, that made Jones respect him, even after only a few minutes.

 

Indy looked down at his stein and grimaced. The beer was flat and warm. He thought about asking for something harder, but by the looks of the glasses he could see, he thought he didn’t have a chance of getting anything good. He pulled the folder from the table, thinking of the map inside.

 

He turned and strode out of the bar purposefully, the clear night air filling his lungs and his heart with purpose as he stepped out of the smoky, dusty bar. Belloch still had Marion and a head start. Indy had some phone calls to make if he was going to find the Ark before Belloch, and save Marion.

 

He was going to do both.

 

When he was done with that, well, he supposed he owed Steve a drink.

 

 


End file.
